


Corporate Crush

by Tennyo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Additional tags to be added as the fic progresses, Alternate Universe, Business setting, CEO Castiel, Gen, Intern Dean, M/M, Pining, Slow Build, possible ratings change later as well
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-03-17 02:59:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13650036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tennyo/pseuds/Tennyo
Summary: Dean Winchester is a summer intern for the Chicago-based tech firm Novak Enterprises. Castiel Novak is something of an enigma, and Dean finds himself increasingly attracted.While Dean didn't make a good first impression, Castiel finds himself intrigued by the young, attractive man.But propositioning a subordinate would be a very bad idea.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, so this was originally a Twitter-fic, intended to be short and a little dirty, but my plot-bunnies rarely stay small and cute, turning into hulking monsters. I had to end the fic prematurely on twitter, but I will be expanding the story for proper consumption here on AO3.  
> Feel free to read the original thread [HERE](https://twitter.com/Kaeos_Tennyo/status/960281266988855296)
> 
> I wish to thank the "Cockles Co-op Saloon" in which a random image prompted what this turned into.  
> You know who you are.
> 
> Tags will be added, rating will change down the line, I'm sure.

Dean Winchester stumbles off the plane at O’Hare after an incredibly long trip. Ugh, he hates planes in the first place, but this was terrible. First, his plane got delayed in San Francisco. Then, they had to make an emergency stop in Denver because of some kind of problem with the toilets? Dean would have been more than happy to just hold it until they landed in Chicago, but he was subjected to yet another landing and takeoff, fraying his nerves even more.

So here he is, late on a Sunday, and WHERE IS HIS SUITCASE?

After waiting an hour, he finally puts in a ticket for lost luggage at the counter, and summons an uber. Once he’s settled in some sedan which smells like antiseptic, Dean leans his head back and lets out a breath. Tomorrow’s his first day, and all he has is the clothes he’s wearing, and what’s in his carry-on, which isn’t much but a spare change of clothes, and a tie. He’s screwed.

Arriving at the apartment building he’ll call home for the next couple of months, Dean texts his contact that he’s here. He gets buzzed in, and directed to the ninth floor, apartment E. He knew he’d be sharing quarters, but he doesn’t expect to see so many of the other interns crammed into the living room. There’s seven of them, and they all greet him warmly.

One, who says his name is Ed, shows Dean to his closet of a room, with a small dresser crammed into the closet and just enough space for a narrow bed against the wall. He briefly socializes, grabs a couple slices of cold pizza someone was kind enough to hold to the side for him, and explains his hell-trip before excusing himself for a shower and to pass out. On his way back to his room, someone says there will be a shuttle to take them to work in the morning, and he sets his alarm before flopping on the bed with a sigh.

* * *

Castiel Novak, CEO of Novak Enterprises, surveys the new interns lined up before him: Young men and women, eager to prove themselves in the tech business world. Most are dressed smartly in pressed slacks, jackets, straight skirts. Some are obviously making do with what they have in ill-fitting and cheap or second-hand slacks and button-ups. And then there’s the young man trying to hide on the end.

Castiel frowns at the wrinkled shirt and knit tie. Where does one even find a knit tie these days? Gaze drifting lower, he takes in the faded denim he dare wear on his first day. It’s bold, but Castiel doubts that with that kind of attitude, Mr…  
He takes a couple steps to the right to catch the name tag.  
...Mr. Winchester will not impress.

After a brief speech about the opportunity to prove themselves and learn during their time with his company, Castiel hands the group off to someone who will give them a tour of the facilities before they are given their assigned tasks. As they walk away, Castiel frowns at the list of interns in his hands, writing "mail room" next to Dean Winchester's name. With a busy day ahead of him, Castiel soon puts the interns out of his mind.

* * *

Dean’s first day was mostly dedicated to orientation and getting settled into their first month assignments. He’s been chastised for wearing jeans, but what could he do? It’s all he has until they figure out where the hell his suitcase fucked off to. Still, he’s glad he didn’t get booted out immediately, even though he’s pretty sure his mail-room assignment has to do with the way his new boss eyeballed him that first morning.

With a binder of office layouts propped up in front of him, Dean arrives at the huge wing of office space that includes the CEO’s office. He tries to not be intimidated as he navigates through rows of cubicles with his mail cart. Reaching an open but empty desk that sits in front of a glass wall with drawn blinds, Dean sees a plaque next to an open door announcing the office of Castiel Novak himself. Looking down at his jeans, he straightens his tie. He can do this.

After a quick glance around, Dean grabs the mail bundle he’d sorted himself and prepares to drop it off on what must be the secretary's desk; but in a moment of initiative, he decides to just take it straight into the office. Peeking in, he sees a dark head of hair hunched over papers scattering an enormous desk.

Knocking on the door frame, Dean steps in hesitantly. A gravelly voice says, "Yes?" but the man doesn’t look up. Dean crosses over to what appears to be a clear spot on the desk, placing the mail bundle down while clearing his throat. He’s ready to turn around unacknowledged when Mr. Novak looks up, catching Dean with his amazingly blue eyes. Embarrassed over his lacking wardrobe, Dean hadn't bothered giving the CEO a good look at the intern introduction. But now he can't look away.

After what feels like an embarrassing amount of time, Dean manages to stumble back, breaking eye contact. "Uh, sorry. The, uh... secretary wasn't at her desk, so... yeah. I'll just..." His flailing hands manage to tip over a cup of pens and they scatter across the floor. "Shit," Dean cringes at the swear word coming out of his own mouth, scrambling to pick up the pens and stuff them back into the cup. One rolled all the way near the door, and as he crams the last one into the cup, he clears his throat, cheeks burning as avoided looking at the still-seated man as he places the cup back on the desk. Turning on his heel, Dean rushes out of the office and back to his mail cart. The secretary, now at her desk, watches him with a confused expression.

* * *

Castiel is sorting through documents he’ll need for a meeting when there’s a knock on his door. Without looking up, he says, "Yes?" since very few other than his assistant have access to his office. Someone clears their throat, and a stack of envelopes land on the desk in his peripheral vision. With a sigh, Castiel looks up to remind his assistant that mail goes in the receptacle on the other side, but his eyes are met with vibrant green.

Castiel watches as the young man before him grows flustered and breaks eye contact, then stumbles backward. He almost sighs when the man tips over some pens, but his breath catches in his throat when he’s presented with a well-formed, denim-clad ass.

Oh. Mr. Winchester.

He can't help one corner of his mouth twitching up in amusement as the intern scrambles for the pens, then rushes off with a blush on his freckled cheeks. Reaching for the stack of mail to place in its proper receptacle, Castiel watched as Dean's lovely ass disappears around the door frame. For half a moment, he considers changing dress code regulations until he remembers it’s inappropriate to ogle the ass of a subordinate. Even if it is a lovely ass. Still, Castiel is amused and instructs his assistant to have the mail delivery be brought directly to him from now on.

Mr. Winchester blushes almost every time he’s made to bring the mail to Castiel’s desk, and after a couple days he notices the change from denim to office attire. The knit tie is replaced with cheap but functional polyester, and the slacks are ill-fitting, but clean. Intrigued, Castiel asks for the weekly performance reports of the interns to be delivered before end-of-day, Friday. He usually only asks for the monthly reports.

Fridays usually involve staying late, as Castiel dislikes the crush of traffic as people scramble to get home for the weekend. It's not like he has much of a life outside the office, anyway. The last thing Castiel looks at before leaving the office is the stack of weekly intern reports. They're scattered throughout the company, and after the first month, will be evaluated and switched around.

Flipping through the stack, he sees the W of Dean's last name and pulls the evaluation free.  
Dean has adapted well to the new environment it seems. And yes, there it is, a reprimand for his attire. There's a hand-written note underneath, and Castiel squints.

"My suits went to Disney World without me, so I had to wear what I had in my carry-on" the note says, the initials D.W. scrawled at the end. With an amused hum, Castiel places the evaluation on top of the stack. A little sass with a sense of humor. He likes that.

Leaning back in his chair, he surveys his desk, tidy except for the evaluations. Weekends are usually spent on work-related socializing; Golfing with clients, business luncheons, drinks in swanky clubs. Castiel really doesn't have much of a life outside of work, and returns home to a quiet apartment at the end of each day. He sighs and stands, reaching for his jacket. By Sunday evening, he’ll be ready to get back here on Monday, as socializing is draining. It's much easier to interact with others within the constraints of an office environment.

* * *

Over the weekend, Dean finally has a chance to get fully settled in. He’s sharing the apartment with three other people, and so far they all seem to be able to stand each other. There’s Harry and Ed sharing a larger room with two beds, and Victor has a room the same size as his. Thankfully, here’s a full bathroom with a tub/shower combo, and a smaller bathroom with just a shower. As long as all four don’t need in there at once, it’s not too bad. Dean can brush his teeth in the kitchen sink, and his hair just requires a comb and a little gel.

Downstairs is a pretty nice laundry facility, which works out since almost everything he has is wash-and-wear. Hey, he’s just an intern, with his senior year at Cal Poly coming up after the summer. He can’t afford dry-cleaning. Getting a paid internship was a nice bonus though, as he’ll need to save all he can, as his scholarship is just barely enough to cover all his expenses.

Friday night they all go out to celebrate surviving their first week. In all, there are eight men and four women, and they go to Wicker Park. Dean has to restrain himself from visiting the record store, and after they grab some chicken and tacos, they head to the Emporium for drinks and live music. Dude, they have pinball machines and arcade video games.

After a while, some of the richer kids wanted to go bar-hopping, but Dean and a few others can’t afford it, so they hang around nursing their last pitcher before heading home. On the way, they stop at the local grocery and pick up some cheap supplies for cooking, and affordable alcohol. That way, those who can’t afford to go out all weekend can still have a good time. Saturday night, Dean’s glad he’s not the only one strapped for cash as well has handy in the kitchen as he gets to know Garth, who can’t hold his liquor, but sure knows how to cook.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This finishes off what has been posted on Twitter so far.  
> I couldn't figure out where to stick Dean's POV about Castiel's new Friday outfit, but I'll mention it in a later chapter.

Monday morning, as Castiel sorts though his agenda for the day, he gets up to ask a question to his assistant. "Meg, do you have the files for the Anderson account?" he asks, standing by her desk as she starts typing something into her computer.

While he waits, he sees the familiar shape of a mail cart come into view, pushed by one Dean Winchester. Dean looks up, and Castiel can see him slow down briefly before continuing to push the cart up to Meg's desk.

"Uh, good morning, Mr. Novak," the young man says as he looks down to sort through the stacks of mail.

"Good morning," Castiel replies, watching Dean's cheeks grow a little pink.

As Dean hands over the morning's stack of mail, their fingers brush, and Castiel feels the slight zap of static as they do. Dean's shoes must have rubber soles. This is why quality office shoes are leather. Dean blushes further and after a glimpse of those wonderful green eyes, he looks down, mumbling an apology as he shuffles back behind the cart.

Castiel dismisses it with a shake of his head, and feels compelled to say something before Dean moves on. "Did your suits enjoy Disney World?" is the first thing that comes to mind.  
He's rewarded with another glimpse of green as Dean looks up at him, eyes wide.

"What?"

"Your errant suits. Did they bring back any souvenirs?"

Dean's mouth flops uselessly for a moment, face reddening further. "Uhh... Not really, unless you count the extra luggage handling tags," Dean finally manages to say.

Mouth twitching, Castiel says, "Pity."

Stammering, Dean glances between Castiel and Meg before mumbling that he has more mail to deliver and disappearing around a partition. While his ass isn't as defined in dress slacks as they are in jeans, Castiel enjoys the view.

Meg's voice catches his attention, "Hate to see him leave, but love to watch him go."

Gasping, Castiel turns to her, wide-eyed. "Meg!"

"What? I saw you looking too."

Clearing his throat, Castiel straightens his spine. "That's inappropriate," he says, before turning to go back into the office, the Anderson files forgotten.

* * *

Dean finds working the mail room extremely boring. Novak Enterprises is a software engineering firm, so most of their correspondence is digital. But there’s still a need for physical mail, so Dean’s first task of the day is to sort out all the incoming mail. There’s even some interdepartmental stuff that makes it his way as well.

After everything is bundled by department and recipient, Dean then takes the elevator between floors, pushing his cart through different configurations of cubicles depending on the department. The rest of his day usually involves helping copy documents and deliver them where they need to go. Late afternoon until end of day is spent sorting outgoing mail.

The problem is, Dean took this job in order to learn about working in the tech field, not to play errand boy. It’s boring and he’s frustrated, and he curses United airlines for somehow sending his suitcase to fucking Orlando. Even getting a daily glimpse of the very attractive CEO isn’t enough to make up for his overall boredom and frustration. How can he make a good impression and use them as a reference, when they’ll probably always see him as the jeans-wearing loser?

Dean thought it was coincidence when Mr. Novak was standing by his assistant’s desk both Monday and Tuesday, but by Wednesday, Dean’s beginning to wonder what’s going on. Does the guy not want him in his office? If so, he should just let Dean hand the mail off to Meg. But no, she looks on with this sly look when Castiel reaches for it, and inevitably Dean zaps the shit out of him, regardless of how he tries to not shuffle his feet on the carpet along the way.

And he now knows the guy is reading his evaluations. Thinking about the Disney World reply he’d left because it wasn’t fucking fair, his cheeks heat at the amusement sparkling in Mr. Novak’s eyes when he’d mentioned it. Shit. Dean finishes his rounds and heads back to the basement with the mail cart. Fucking unfair blue eyes, unfair lost luggage— one of the wheels of the cart gets jammed in the elevator entrance, jolting Dean from his thoughts. As he jostles it free, he continues his thought, _—and fucking shitty mail carts!_

Fridays are supposed to be casual, but Dean is now terrified of wearing even his one pair of nice jeans to the office. At least he brought a couple more colorful button-ups and can leave off the tie. On his way through the gauntlet of cubicles to Mr. Novak’s office, Dean debates with himself over whether he should button the top button of his shirt. Mentally kicking himself, he thinks he’d rather get in trouble with his boss than go around all day looking like a dork. Top buttons are for ties. That’s it.

Playing it cool with a “Morning boss,” as he hands over the mail, he’s rewarded with a “Good morning, Dean,” and that now-familiar zap as their fingers brush. He can’t help but smile. Waving before moving along, Dean turns the corner and starts to whistle. It’s Friday, the weekend is almost here, and he’s going to video chat with his little brother Saturday. He almost doesn’t even care that it’s supposed to storm all weekend.

* * *

Thanks to Castiel’s new behavior of hanging out by Meg’s desk in the mornings, which just happen to coincide with the mail cart coming around, he notices a shift in attire on Friday. Fewer people are wearing button-ups, ties, and business skirts, exchanged for polo shirts, colorful blouses, and chinos. As he stands by Meg's desk, coffee in hand, he asks her about it.

"What, did you forget about Casual Fridays?" she asks.

Castiel looks down at her, noticing that even she is dressed slightly more casually in a soft, flowy cotton top, a tailored leather jacket over the back of her chair.

"You need to get out of your office more," she comments with a raised eyebrow.

Dean appears with his cart dressed in his usual slacks but minus a tie, his shirt a colorful check print. Upon seeing Castiel, Dean hands him his mail bundle, greeting him with a "Morning, Boss."

"Good morning, Dean," Castiel says, relishing the brush of fingertips and the little static zap that almost always accompanies it. Dean doesn't even flinch anymore, and he gives Castiel a bright smile before he waves and moves along to continue his deliveries.

After Dean turns the corner, Castiel glances at Meg to see her staring at him, one eyebrow raised and a smirk on her lips. He hides behind his coffee, taking a sip before he asks, "What?"  
She leans back in her chair. "You want a piece of that intern's ass, don't you?"

Castiel gasps, feeling his face heat. "Company policy—"

Meg interrupts, "May keep you from acting on it, but it doesn't keep you from wanting."

Castiel backs up through his door. "I would never take advantage of a subordinate like that," he says before scrambling to his desk.

Saturday evening, Castiel is sitting on his sofa, his flat-screen TV showing Bloomberg channel with Fox Business in the PiP. With a sigh, he closes the tab where he was reading an article about the advancement of artificial intelligence. Thinking about the idea of "Casual Fridays" he opens up a new browser window. After checking the company's dress code, he begins looking for jeans. There are so many brands available that it's dizzying, so he goes to the website of a well-known store. There, he finds brands he's used to seeing, like John Varvatos, Ferragamo, etc.

Even with the search narrowed down to recognizable brands, he's bewildered at the different styles, cuts, and colors available. He narrows the search further, eliminating all the pants that seem to be intentionally torn. Why would someone want to wear damaged garments? After sorting through a few different styles he finds acceptable, Castiel checks the sizing and selects two different pairs of jeans, one in a dark blue, and another in medium grey. Clicking **_Place Order,_** Castiel smiles to himself. Monday he'll call his tailor and ask about shirts.

This week, there are a couple of morning meetings, and he finds himself thinking of green eyes and static shock during some of the boring parts. Friday, Castiel pulls on his dark-wash Burberry jeans with a blue and white check shirt of the same brand.  Looking in the mirror, the shirt looks more like a blue shirt with a few intersecting black and white stripes, but the website called it “giant check.”

All the advertisements also showed the shirt untucked, and Castiel stands uncomfortably as he looks himself over, bending at the knees. These jeans are made of stiffer fabric than which he’s accustomed, and much more form-fitting. Perhaps he shouldn’t have ordered the “slim cut” as they’re quite tight around his posterior and thighs. Frowning at himself in the mirror, Castiel squats one more time to stretch the pants a bit more before heading to work.

By the time Dean usually comes with the mail, Castiel is standing awkwardly by Meg’s desk, coffee in hand, as he tries to grow accustomed to the fit of his clothing. It’s been a challenge to not tuck in his shirt all morning, and several employees have outright gawked at him. He would have gone and changed into his spare suit if Meg hadn’t whistled at him and threatened to quit if he did so. She’d also taken the liberty of undoing the top button of his shirt, saying that it was in the spirit of Casual Friday and that he’d thank her for it later.

When Castiel spots the edge of the mail cart, he straightens his spine and waits for Dean to come into view. Today he’s wearing a short-sleeve light green and white check, with a seersucker texture. As he reaches Meg’s desk, he looks up and openly stares at Castiel, his mouth parted in… surprise, Castiel hopes?  Blinking, Dean clamps his mouth shut and fumbles for Castiel’s mail bundle.

“Here you go.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel says with a smile.

“Yeah. Um, that’s a nice shirt.”

Castiel can practically feel Dean's eyes trailing down his chest. “I’m trying something new.” As Dean nods and turns back to his cart, Castiel remembers something. “Oh, wait! I have some outgoing mail for you to take back.”

He rushes into his office, grabbing a couple of envelopes that need to go out before end of day. “I don’t have stamps, and Meg usually handles those things, so I hope that’s alright?”

When Castiel looks up at Dean, he catches the young man licking his lips as he looks down Castiel’s body.  “Huh?” Dean responds, before looking back up to meet Castiel’s eyes. “Oh, yeah, sure. We can take care of that.”

Castiel intentionally brushes Dean’s fingers this time, wanting that extra touch from the man who had managed to fascinate him, their eyes locked on each other the whole time. "Thank you."

Dean swallows as he pulls the envelopes from Castiel's hand, fingertips lingering. "Have a good weekend, Boss," he says, tucking the envelopes into the "Outgoing" slot on the cart.

"And you as well, Dean," Castiel says, with a small curl of his lips.

Dean bumps into the cart before he gets it moving again and he looks at Castiel with one last smile before disappearing around a corner. Meg sighs heavily behind him. "Okay, loverboy. He's gone now. Are you going to stand next to my desk all day?"

Blinking, Castiel looks at Meg who is smirking up at him from her desk. "No, I have work to do." And with that, Castiel goes into his office and sits down at his desk, where a huge grin breaks out on his face. _Dean liked his shirt_. Somehow, Castiel’s jeans don’t seem so uncomfortable anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fans of Misha should be familiar with this shirt.  
> Oh yes.  
>   
> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, it's been months!  
> Anyway, I see this fic taking two more chapters at least, before it's finished.  
> Things are developing a little slowly, but I do have a plan, I promise!
> 
> Oh, and I guess I should note that the calendar fits with 2016, mostly because I wanted a Monday holiday.

Dean is bored out of his mind. It’s the last week of June, the weather’s been decent, and he spends most of his time in the basement of this shitty building, only getting peeks at the windows when he does his rounds. What he wouldn’t give right now to be able to cruise in his dad’s classic Chevy around the lake. At least they’ve got a three-day weekend coming up since the 4th is on a Monday.

Maybe he can manage to take the train down to Lawrence this weekend? During one of his many lulls, Dean checks the schedule. It’s about a nine hour trip, and if he manages to get off work early, he could make it home in time to pass out late and spend the weekend with family and friends. Sammy will be home from Stanford, it will be great. Except he’ll have to head back Monday morning. Which means no fireworks, unless he wants to call in sick the day after a holiday. Yeah, no. He’s already got a mark for his wardrobe, he doesn’t need another.

* * *

 Wednesday morning finds Castiel holed up in a small conference room surrounded by papers, laptop open, and the projection screen filled with diagrams. They’ve been trying to get a contract for a major automobile manufacturer, and Castiel is beginning to reconsider his stance on checking everything over. He started this company working on business and computer software engineering. This is… well, he knows almost nothing about vehicles.

This is the problem with diversifying his company. Sure, the head of the department proposing the deal knows cars, but Castiel sometimes wishes he’d never given into his family’s suggestions of expanding. He had liked being a small business owner who personally knew all his employees. Now, there are more people whose names he doesn’t know than he does know. It’s quite a change from when he first started the business four years ago, right on the heels of graduating university with a dual major of business and software engineering.

As it is now, he’s going to have to call Uri to come back up here to explain everything. As he reaches for the phone, the room’s door opens; a now-familiar head peeks in, green eyes settling on him. Dean shuffles his feet and glances around the room.

“Hey, boss.”

Surprised, Castiel sits up and leans back from the table. “Dean. What can I do for you?”

Dean stands at the entrance waving a file folder. “When I swung by your office, Meg asked I drop this off to you in here.”

Nodding, Castiel thanks him and reaches out a hand for the folder. Dean comes in, and eyes the papers on the desk. “Hey, is all this schematics for vehicle ECU systems?”

Castiel binks up at him a moment. He wasn’t expecting Dean to recognise that at a glance. “Err, yes. I’m afraid my personal experience in office software doesn’t help me here.”

Frowning, Dean glances back down at the table. “Don’t you have someone who understands this, though?”

“Yes, but I was hoping to avoid Uri’s smug face as long as possible,” Castiel says with a sigh.

“Oh.” Dean shifts from foot to foot, hands clasped, head lowered. “If you like… I could… come back when I’m finished?”

How is it that Dean manages to be exactly what he needs? Castiel pulls out a chair. “Or, you could help me now, and I can get someone to finish distributing the mail.” Dean glances up at him in surprise. Knowing food is an effective motivator, Castiel adds, “I’ll order lunch for you as well.”

A smile lighting his face, Dean comes over to the empty seat. “Well, since you’re offering to feed me.”

Nodding, Castiel dials Meg’s extension on the conference phone and asks her to find someone to finish Dean’s deliveries.

* * *

 Dean has been working hard explaining things to Mr. Novak, but he’s… actually having fun. This isn’t exactly what he was hoping for out of this internship, but he likes it. He’s known cars his whole life, and when he got into engineering, he’d almost gone the mechanical route. But cars are mostly computers with engines and wheels nowadays, so he’s glad he’s able to help his boss with this project.

For lunch, Castiel offers to feed him, and he ends up with a pretty good roast beef sandwich, even though he’s afraid to ask how much it cost. It comes from some place with a fancy, French-like name. Man, rich people are on another level.

When he had been notified of his internship with Novak Enterprises, Dean had done a little digging. Turns out the Novak family is old money, like they were rich as balls back in Europe before moving to America a couple generations ago. They’ve got their fingers in just about every pie there is, with family members in politics, medicine, law, you name it, there’s a Novak or a close relative who’s firmly seated in a position of power somewhere.

So when Dean met Castiel’s disapproving frown at his jeans that first day, and then got assigned to the mail room, he wasn’t surprised. But ever since, he’s been surprised by how Castiel seems… to actually like Dean now. He’d been expecting stuck up and pompous, and got… aloof and maybe a little awkward. And he’s trying to not think about how good Castiel looks with his sleeves rolled up, wide lips pursed and brow crinkled with concentration.

Dean watches as Castiel grasps one of those hand-sliced fancy artisanal kettle chips between two fingers and places it on his tongue before it disappears between his lips, jaw working as he chews. _Stop getting distracted_ he tells himself as he turns back to the laptop which has a diagram of component controls for different parts of a car.

Later in the day, Dean jumps when there’s a knock on the door. Meg is standing there, leather jacket over her arm. “You need anything else, Boss?” she asks, a strange half smile on her face, one eyebrow raised.

Glancing at the clock, Dean sees it’s a couple minutes after five. Holy crap, where did the time go? He glances to see Castiel blinking at Meg in surprise as well.

“Oh, I think I’m good, here.” Castiel turns to Dean. “I apologize for taking up so much of your time.”

“Nah,” Dean rolls one shoulder in a half shrug. “Mail room’s boring, anyway.”

Meg leaves, and they start to clean up the scattered papers and shut down the computer and projector. Castiel taps a stack of papers into a neat pile, brow creased in thought. Dean hands him a binder clip, and he asks, “Dean, would you mind helping me with this tomorrow as well?”

Without a second thought, Dean answers, “Sure, I’d be glad to!”

After they’ve tidied everything, Dean rocks back on his heels, hands in his pockets. Should he just go? Wait to be dismissed? Should he ask if his boss wants to grab a drink or…

Castiel turns to him, a couple of file folders under his arm. “I’m sorry again for letting the day get away. If you like, I can authorize for you to come in late tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to do all that.” Dean pulls one hand out of a pocket to scratch the back of his head. “What’re you doing after this?”

Castiel gives a heavy sigh. “I need to check my correspondence and sign off on a few things before I can leave. But please, enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Oh. That makes sense, Castiel is the boss, after all. Nodding, Dean heads toward the door. “Cool, well… don’t work yourself too hard, I guess.”

Castiel gives him a small smile. “Thank you, and you have a safe trip home.”

* * *

 Castiel started his day early, catching up on the last of his correspondence from yesterday, arranging for someone to take over Dean’s duties today, and is already on his second cup of coffee by the time Meg shows up, five minutes before eight as usual. By the time Castiel is ready to set up in the conference room, Meg’s leaning against his office door, a large coffee in hand.

“You planning on spending the day with Loverboy again?”

Castiel peeks around the doorframe to see if anyone was listening. Thankfully, there’s nobody in earshot. “You need to stop talking about Dean like that, Meg.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I know. Appropriate language. You realize, he’s only an intern here for a couple months, and then you can have your way with him, right?”

Pursing his lips, Castiel gives her a narrow-eyed stare. She relents, hands held up in surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll be over here keeping track of things while you avoid flirting all day long.”

Meg’s words stay with Castiel all through warming up the projector, booting up his laptop, and pulling up his notes from yesterday. He can’t help but start to think about how long it’s been since he’s been… intimate with anyone. It takes him a while to remember his last partner. But he’s been busy, focusing on work.

There isn’t time in his life for intimate relationships, and one-night-meetups have always felt classless to him. So here he is, thinking inappropriate thoughts about one of his company’s interns, who is about to walk through that door any minute. Thankfully Dean appears to have taken his suggestion of showing up late today. By the time he does show up, Castiel is composed again, and is trying to reorganize the schematics.

* * *

 Dean ended up getting to work later than he intended, because while he did enjoy about fifteen minutes extra free time, he forgot the bus stop near the apartment is every hour, so he had to look up other routes and walk four blocks, praying he’d catch the other one on time. But that one was late, and crowded, and he had to stand next to someone who smelled like a dirty diaper. So by the time he arrives in the conference room he’s a bit sweaty and rumpled. Thankfully, his boss doesn’t seem to mind or notice.

At some point during the morning, Dean slips and start using his personal abbreviation of Cas, instead of Castiel. But Mr. Novak doesn’t say anything, so he keeps using it. Lunch is another fancy sandwich, and Dean tries to keep an eye on the time today. While it’s been nice working on this project with Cas, he knows the man must have other things to do. But it’s becoming increasingly difficult to avoid being distracted by Cas. He’s a good looking man, and while at first glance may be a bit of a hardass, he really seems to care about his employees.

They finish up with the proposal a little before four p.m. and Dean wonders what he’s going to do with the rest of his day, and who has been taking care of the mail. He’s half expecting the mailroom to look like a disaster tomorrow morning. But his project here is done, so it’s not like he can linger in this conference room with Cas anymore. Fingers toying with a binder clip, Dean watches Cas tuck all the papers away before shutting off the projector.

He’s about to turn and leave when Cas says, “Dean?”

“Uh, yeah? I mean, yes, boss?” Dean looks at Cas, whose hands are clenched around the handle of his briefcase satchel thing, his eyes lowered.

“Do you have any plans for Independence Day?”

Oh. “Well, I was thinking of spending the weekend with family, but it would mean riding the train for nine hours on the ride back.” He’s also not looking forward to having to be at the station at the asscrack of dawn, just to get back in the afternoon.

Cas’ expression falls, so Dean asks, “Why?”

“We hold a rooftop celebration every year, with food and a view of the city’s fireworks on the fourth. I was just curious if you would be interested in attending.”

“Dude,” Dean blinks at him. “I’ll be back in town long before dark. Count me in!”

At that, Cas blinks up at him in surprise. “Really?”

Dean tries to not stare into those blue eyes looking at him. “Heck yeah. After napping on the trip back, free food and fireworks sounds awesome.”

“Good, I’ll make arrangements then,” Cas says, looking back down at his hands with a small smile.

Realizing he’s just been standing there staring, Dean stumbles back into the doorframe of the room. “Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow, boss.”

He can’t get rid of the smile on his face the whole way back down to the basement. It’s not until he’s stepping off the elevator, when he thinks, _how come nobody’s mentioned this party before? And why would Cas need to make arrangements?_

* * *

 It’s Friday morning, and Castiel enters a conference room that’s larger than the one he and Dean had been using, to find the room noisily occupied by interns eating pastries and drinking coffee. With their first month over, they’ll be changing to different departments after the holiday weekend. The list of intern names and new assignments in hand, he clears his throat, and slowly the room quiets as they notice his presence. Dean is sitting at the far end of the table with a stack of donuts, powdered sugar crusting his mouth, eyes widening as he recognizes Castiel.

Someone vacates the chair at the head of the table as Castiel stands there, surveying the collection of young men and women. He’d asked for weekly evaluations yesterday, so everybody would know their new assignments before the weekend. Their supervisors had given recommendations as to their next placement, and except for a few exceptions, everyone is going where they were suggested.

Once the room has quieted down to nervous scuffling and slurps of coffee, Castiel clears his throat again. “I want to thank all of you for your hard work this past month. When you return on Tuesday, you shall all receive new assignments, to help you better explore your opportunities.”

There are some murmurs at that, and Castiel gives them a moment to settle. “I’m sure some of you are planning on travelling this weekend, and I hope you have a safe and happy Fourth. In case you haven’t heard, our company holds a celebration on the roof the evening of, with food and view of fireworks. While we cannot allow everyone attendance, two of you will be given the opportunity to join us, as a reward for exemplary performance.”

More chatter erupts at this, and Castiel remains stoic until they quiet. “If you are unable to attend, please let me or your supervisor know, letting someone else have the opportunity.” Refusing to actually look at Dean, Castiel glances at the top paper. “The two interns invited to the celebration are, Stephanie Doorman and Dean Winchester.”

The room erupts into conversation at that point. Dean leans back in his seat and stuffs what appears to be half a donut in his mouth.

Stephanie, a young woman with glasses and long brown hair neatly tucked into a ponytail, smiles sadly at him. “I’m sorry Mr. Novak, I won’t be able to make it.”

“I still wish you a happy holiday and safe travels, you’ve done well this past month.”

That causes a slight flushing of her cheeks, and a wider smile. “Thank you, sir.”

As the room’s volume levels rise, Castiel raises his voice. “Who else will be available Monday evening?” Four hands go up, and he takes in the faces attached, thinking of their evaluations.

Victor Henriksen has been a diligent worker, and his supervisor gave him high praise. Harry Spangler has had some discipline issues, but is motivated and eager. Cole Trenton has had some serious problems over the past month, and Castiel is sending him to the mail room for July. Garth Fitzgerald had a clumsy start, but has improved drastically over the past weeks. Scanning their faces, Castiel thinks he’ll ponder the choice.

“I’ll let your supervisor know by end of day today. Don’t forget to check your emails, as they will detail your new departments starting Tuesday, as well as give your supervisor’s contact information.” With a nod, Castiel makes to leave. “Please enjoy your morning refreshments before finishing your last day at your current assignments, and once again, have a safe and happy holiday weekend.”

It’s almost lunch time when Dean brings the mail around today, and Castiel smiles as Dean hands over the stack of correspondence. Dean grins brightly in return.

“So how do I get in for the party on Monday?” Dean asks.

“Security will let you in, you’ll go to the top floor, and there will be directions to the roof entrance from there.”

Dean purses his lips and nods. “Cool, I’ll see you then.”

As Dean turns to leave, Castiel thinks of something. “Oh, Dean?”

“Yeah?” Dean turns at the doorway.

“Monday’s gathering will include some clients and business partners. Please dress… business casual.”

Dean blinks at that, then taps two fingers to his temple, winking. “Gotcha, Cas. See you then.”

Castiel stares at the empty doorway for a few moments, face warm. Did Dean just _wink_ at him?


End file.
